The Logical Solution
by R4v3n Kn1ght
Summary: Admiral Christopher Pike wanted one last trip on his ship before James T. Kirk takes over. While on a little cruise around space, the crew discovers a message left to Pike...by someone they never thought to hear from again. Humor!


**Author's Note:** _This is not to be taken seriously in any way whatsoever! The entire premise came from the random thought of, "What if Nero's exclamation, 'Fire everything!' meant something that may not have been…totally expected?" Take this as strict humor – if a little twisted – and enjoy. Again, this is not serious, and I certainly do not own Star Trek or anything to do with it (unless something like a mug counts)! Happy reading! ~ RK _

**The Logical Solution**

Life aboard the _U.S.S. Enterprise_ eventually returned to normal…well…as normal as could be expected considering the newly appointed Admiral Christopher Pike was taking his former vessel on a simple cruise around the Sol System on a last hurrah sort of thing. The real reason for the Admiral's presence was to reassure the crew he was leaving behind that his newly appointed replacement, Captain – a title Pike almost couldn't believe – James T. Kirk, was not the lucky dumbass that practically everyone else in Starfleet thought.

The ship had just successfully cleared spacedock and just entered warp, and this time Hikaru Sulu remembered to disengage the…parking brake. Pike shook his head at that memory. Who would have thought that something like a stupid mistake ended up saving all their lives? 'The universe works in mysterious ways,' he thought.

Captain – dear God – Kirk stood beside the seated Admiral at the captain's chair. In any other circumstance, the younger man would have been in that chair, but Pike managed, despite being in his mobile chair, to beat Kirk to the bridge. Besides, Pike had only had several hours in the damn command chair of his ship – on her maiden voyage no less! – and he was determined to sit in it for the completion of one damn mission, even if it was as simple as a little training cruise. Was that so much to ask? He really didn't think so.

After they came out of warp and were basically drifting along for a scenic view of Jupiter's Great Red Spot, the young East-African woman sitting primly at Communications spoke up. "Admiral, I'm receiving a message over a little used frequency. It was set for a delayed transmission, but…" She hesitated, darting a quick glance at the Vulcan science officer, Spock, nearby. "It sounds like…it's that awful—"

"I don't care who it sounds like, Lieutenant!" barked Pike authoritatively. "Is there a visual with it?"

Uhura fiddled with a few dials and buttons that Pike was certain had nothing to do with her answer. "Yes, sir."

"Then put it on main viewscreen." She hesitated again and was looking nervously at Spock. "Is there a problem, Lieutenant?" the Admiral growled at her.

Instead of answering, she simply obeyed his previous order and transferred the message to the forward view. The face that appeared was one that everyone on the bridge knew well. It was a face that they had been sure to never have the misfortune of ever seeing again. It simply proved that nothing was a certainty no matter what happened.

The face that took up the entire forward view screen in an unnecessarily close close-up was the tattooed, smirking…almost gleeful…face of a certain Romulan, a certain psychotic Romulan.

"Hi, again, Christopher, it's Nero!" Everyone on the bridge found that their eyes had widened, not from surprise alone, but also a mix of horror. "I thought that you might want to know just who was the real culprit behind the annihilation of that treacherous Vulcan planet and everyone on it!"

At that point, several people found themselves nervously glancing at Spock, who – while having a blank overall expression – had eyes that blared in barely restrained fury. Kirk found himself unconsciously rubbing at his throat and maneuvering himself so that the captain's chair was directly in the path between Spock and himself. It wasn't exactly right to put Pike right there in the line of the Vulcan's rage, but it was times like this that Kirk's survival instinct flared. And right now it told him to put something – anything! – between him and Spock. Pike, however, was too busy staring in horror at the smirking visage before him.

"That's right, Christopher," continued the Romulan as though he knew he needed time for the horror to sink in, "it was really your fault. Well, everyone's fault, really. You can blame Starfleet for the destruction and murder of all the Vulcans. You really need to learn to be a little more eco-friendly, Christopher. That's where I came in."

Everyone was very confused at this point. Heads turned and met the eyes of everyone else, just to double check that they were all at the same level of confusion. Some people were unsure if they should be relieved or scared that their brilliant Vulcan seemed to be just as at a loss as the rest of them. Once again, after that brief amount of time, Nero continued.

"Everyone seems to think that we Romulans are not very concerned with the endurance and maintainability of the universe. Well, as I'm about to tell you in greater detail, we're actually very supportive of recycling…pretty much everything." His mouth twisted in a perverted version of a smile that no one found either charming or endearing.

Comprehension began to register on Admiral Pike's face. Comprehension and horror.

"I assure you that it was pure happenstance that my generous species turned into the galaxy's janitorial staff, which is not as glorious a job as anyone would imagine!" Nero took a moment to visibly compose himself before continuing his monologue. "As it happened, we found plenty of…waste items…to use in a productive manner. The most abundant of which was something that Starfleet ships and other vessels saw fit to dispose of right into the vastness of space! Luckily for everyone in the universe, we found ways to harvest this…waste of yours and added some fuel to our fire, so to speak."

Everyone on the bridge was slowly starting to understand just what it was that the now-dead Nero was describing. The only problem was that no one knew who was to blame. Admiral Pike's eyes bulged as he sat tensely in the command chair. Kirk opened his mouth to say something, but the voice of the absolutely insane Romulan started again.

"So, I thank Starfleet's entire armada for supplying us with your piles of waste adrift in space. Your generous donations is responsible for three-quarters of our firepower needed to power our drill that enabled us to reach Vulcan's core and thus destroy it! Now you understand another version of what I believe humans refer to as the Butterfly Effect, only in this case you wiped out billions of lives after having finished wiping your—"

The last of what Nero had said was drowned out by the sound of Admiral Christopher Pike heaving his most recently consumed meal on the deck of his ship, right in front of the new captain's boots. The owner of said boots recoiled with an audible gasp, but did not fully retreat. He still managed to keep the command chair between himself and Spock, whose gaze was fixed heatedly on Pike. Kirk couldn't be sure if it were composed strictly of confusion, blind rage, or a violent internal struggle between both. He was not about to ask either, just in case anything directed right at the Vulcan would set him off.

At that moment, the tension on the bridge was halted by the arrival of a certain Chief Medical Officer. Just as the gentle hiss of the turbolift door sounded, the forward view screen fizzled out, losing the picture of the psychotic Nero. The doctor didn't exactly notice the tension right away, as his attention zeroed in on the heaving older man in the command chair. Before he could censor himself, Doctor McCoy complained loudly. "Aw, crap, sir! I'm sorry, but I refuse to clean that!"

Sulu whirled around in his chair at the Helm Station and addressed the doctor in a voice rapidly nearing panic. "I wouldn't say the c-word if I were you right now!"

McCoy glared at Sulu. "What – 'crap'?"

Fearing for his best friend's life, Kirk looked at McCoy and jerked his head towards the Vulcan on the bridge. The doctor followed the indicated head tilt to see that Spock's left eyebrow was twitching dangerously as he glared in his direction. Like Jim, McCoy certainly remembered the fury in which Spock nearly killed the new captain less than a week ago, right at Sulu's console for that matter. McCoy tensed as he was ready to dash back into the turbolift if the Vulcan moved so much as an inch in his direction. While Kirk's instinct may be to fight, McCoy favored the flight method, no matter how cowardly it made him seem to others.

Pavel Chekov at the Navigation Station moved his big eyes between Spock, Kirk, the heaving Admiral Pike, and McCoy very quickly wondering who or what would be broken this time. He had almost ended up involved in that slugfest between Kirk and Spock the last time the Vulcan exploded in anger, and he had no desire to be caught in it this time. For a moment, he thought that the Vulcan race chose their name well, because if they exploded in violent emotionalism like Spock did when he throttled Kirk, then it was – dare he think it? – logical to have the name of their race sound almost like 'volcano.' Vulcan…volcano. It made sense to Chekov, but as he glanced again at Spock, he knew that he would have to find another time to ask the science officer about that.

McCoy tried to stealthily back up towards the lift doors as he cautiously asked, "Why am I not supposed to mention the word 'crap'?" He looked around to everyone on the bridge for an explanation.

"Do you have a death wish?" asked Sulu.

Before the Helmsman could continue, the distinct sound of a hand slapping the shipwide intercom button on the command chair sounded. Everyone's attention turned to focus on Admiral Pike, who had finally stopped heaving. "Attention, crew, this is Admiral Pike! After a rather alarming communication from…uh…" He looked at the irately twitching Vulcan and decided he would rather live than risk it. "…someone, I've decided that we need the Engineering division to work on a better waste removal system in here. Simply…flushing it into open space for bat-crazy future Romulans – or anyone else for that matter – to harvest in their…" He hesitated, unsure of how to phrase it, exactly.

He was spared that indecision when the new captain of the ship interjected with, "Piece of shit drill!"

Pike shot a disapproving glance at the innocent-looking Kirk. "Sure," he sarcastically drawled. "That." He sighed before continuing while wondering what possessed him to have ever promoted Kirk to first officer on a whim during that fateful mission, having clearly known that the young man wasn't even permitted for active duty! "So that we don't go around the entirety of space allowing our…fecal matter—" He couldn't believe he was making such a ridiculous announcement. "—to be used to cause galactic destruction. So if we want to avoid causing not only our – but every other living thing's – extinction in the cosmos, then we simply need to—"

He was once again interrupted, but this time by the horrified voice of Doctor McCoy. "Good God, man! Are you suggesting that no one is supposed to sit down and take a serious dump for the rest of history?"

Pike closed his eyes as he continued. "—need to contain our waste products and dispose of them in a safer, less harmful-to-everything sort of way. From this moment on, the world – or in this case – the universe is _not_ a man's toilet anymore." He waited for a moment, hoping that the crew would take this seriously. "Pike out," he said resignedly.

When Pike opened his eyes again, he saw that silence had overtaken the bridge. Every single person was staring at him in a way that Pike was certain meant they were unsure if they should be laughing or replying with a dutiful 'yes, sir.' The silence, complete silence as no one was even moving, continued for so long that Pike started to grow nervous.

"Admiral," came the tiny and hesitant voice from the Navigation Station.

More thankful than words could describe, Pike looked gratefully at the teenaged Chekov. Gratefully because the youngest crew member was the only one brave enough to break the suffocating silence that had engulfed the bridge.

"Vhat if ve use our vaste to…" The youngest bridge member shrugged as he continued, "power our own varp drive? If Nero could use it to power his drill, zen vhy can't ve power our engines?"

There was a huff of air next to Pike, which he confirmed to be Kirk trying to stifle a laugh behind the hand over his smile. How would this immature little snot command his ship? Then, Pike turned his gaze back at Chekov, who seemed to not notice the poorly concealed amusement of his new captain. At that moment, Pike admitted to himself that this entire situation in which they found themselves _was_ completely absurd and possibly worthy of a little amusement.

The only other person on the bridge that moved was Spock. He had turned to face his console and had input who-knew-what into his computers at such a quick speed that after only just over five seconds, the Vulcan faced everyone else again. "Mr. Chekov makes a valid claim," he announced in a completely composed voice. "We could utilize the Romulans's technological theories to bolster the power in our warp core and possibly even our shields. Of course, this is possible providing that the average crewmember were to have a successful bowel movement twice per day, producing one half pound of waste, which should equate to approximately two hundred pounds of solid material daily with which to power the ship."

Pike noticed that everyone in his line of sight, including peripheral vision, was staring at Spock. They were probably all thinking the same thing: 'Only a Vulcan can say something like that in a completely serious tone.' However, he was jarred out of this contemplation when he saw Kirk's hand slap the communication button on the command chair. Pike decided to just let him go.

"Scotty," called Kirk.

"Aye?" came the Scottish brogue in response.

With a barely concealed smile, Kirk continued, "Prepare to undertake a very serious project."

There was a second's worth of delay from the Engineer. "This be the one about keepin' our…stuff in our own system, in a manner of speakin'?"

Kirk was fully smiling now, and replied, "Yeah," with a wink to Pike, who shook his head.

Only those closest to McCoy heard him mutter, "My God," at Kirk's behavior.

"Think you can do it, Scotty?" Kirk asked.

There was a sigh from the other end of the intercom. "Aye, captain. But it'll be a wee bit messy, though. I mean, how can it not? I'll be wantin' some seriously unlimited access to sandwiches after this!"

"Sure you're going to want to _eat_ after this?" Sulu mumbled from his chair.

Everyone groaned at the comment. Everyone except Spock, who had yet to grasp the concept of not only humor but also sarcasm when used by humans. "If our fuel and energy source is completely dependant on our own consumption of nutrients to the point of excess then it is only logical that whether or not any of us feel ill in any capacity we must still do our duty and consume sustenance."

Kirk smiled at Spock, amazed that the Vulcan can be taking this situation as seriously as he was. "Oh man," he said more to himself than anyone else on the bridge. "I'm going to have the fattest crew in the history of Starfleet."

Pike could do nothing else but put his head in his hands.

**End Notes:** _Thanks to everyone who read this insanity. I hope it was entertaining and humorous and enjoyable. Leave a review if you wish. Like every fic author, I wnjoy them. However, keep your flames to yourself, please. Thank you! ~ RK _


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